


Privileged

by hannahrhen



Series: Good, Giving, Game [19]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fisting, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Medical Kink, Other: See Story Notes, Rape Fantasy, Sexual Fantasy, Size Kink, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-22
Updated: 2014-03-22
Packaged: 2018-01-16 14:40:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1351174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannahrhen/pseuds/hannahrhen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki tops Tony's fantasy confessions. </p>
<p>The Hulk just tops.</p>
<p>(References part 13, <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/923792">Better Left Unsaid</a>)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Privileged

**Author's Note:**

> **PLEASE NOTE** : There is a noncon element in this fic. Like in "Better Left Unsaid," it's entirely, and clearly, a fantasy sequence.

_They were naked in bed, Loki caught between Tony’s legs, his back to Tony’s chest, both of them loosely tanged in sheets. Just talking for now, though the topic was relevant to the space, and Tony’s body was starting to rouse as a result._

_Slouched lazily against the headboard, warm and comfortable, Tony slipped his hand down, down over Loki’s belly as they spoke. As Tony made a request in keeping with the subject. Added, “Quid pro quo, Clarice,” for his own amusement._

_Loki stilled his gentle, futile shifting. His answer was just as good-humored. “Be careful what you ask for, Stark.”_

_Ha--as if. He teased Loki's calf with a toe. “No, really--I want to know. What you imagine." Used his lowest, most suggestive tone. "I want to know the worst.”_

_He got a hum in return. Then, “But do you want to_ see _it?”_

***

So, when the bedroom wall faded away, when it was replaced by the three-D illusion of Loki’s magic? The first thing Tony saw? Well, no, not the _first_ thing--it was hard to overlook the whole scenario, actually. Because it wasn’t just a screen.

Where Loki’s illusion began, Tony’s bed ended in a fuzzy line, and, before them, the room had faded and changed into another. Still a representation of Tony’s workshop, but modified.

It was, okay, a little surprising how few changes it took to turn Tony’s awesome funhouse of engineering into a ... maybe a medical lab? Exam room? A few machines blinking from the perimeter, barely sketched out by Loki’s imagination. The quality of light overall just slightly bluer, with bright cone-shaped lamps hanging overhead. It looked cold. And, where Tony’s working area allowed for empty space, the gaps here were taken over by an enormous metal platform, almost an oversized surgical table, and Loki--

Okay. So.

There was a lot to take in at once.

The metal platform was just a flat expanse, with four legs holding it up, not a seam or rivet to be found, smooth and sleek as mercury. Loki was splayed on its surface, body positioned into a collection of soft light and dark curves and curls, stretched out and attached to the glinting reflective surface. Wireless electrodes were attached to his temples, just above his nipples, and low on his abdomen, but it didn’t change the overall impression: His softness, his warmth were pure contrast to the blunt effect of his surroundings. He’d been tugged down to one end, one knee up and the other bent outward, and Tony--

No, really, it was a lot to take in. At once.

And Tony, decked out in a lab coat, was--

***

_Tony gave in. “Fuck, it fits?” He jostled Loki between his legs. “I wasn’t sure it would fit.”_

_Got a pinch to the calf for his trouble. “It is my fantasy, Stark--wouldn’t it fit in my imagination?”_

***

Tony--the other Tony ... Dream Tony? Under the lab coat, dream!Tony was in jeans and a button-down white shirt, probably more put together than he ever found himself in this space--well, in his work space. He had one arm’s sleeves rolled all the way up past his elbow and was bent slightly at the waist at the edge of that platform, and his hand ... That entire hand ...

Okay, he was getting to that.

Hell. Dream!Tony was hunching between Loki’s knees at that end of the table, and most of his forearm had disappeared inside Loki’s ass.

So, you know-- _that?_ Kind of the first thing Tony saw. Before the smoothness of the table, before the sterile illumination of the not-workshop. Before he identified the restraints at Loki’s wrists and ankles, and the stunned expression on Loki’s face as he stared at the ceiling. Before he catalogued the other changes that had been made to the workshop to make room for that table. It was easily half again as long as Loki, and wide enough for three. Three people who maybe were gonna have a good time.

He wasn’t sure if Loki was having a good time. His back was arched over the no-doubt chilly surface, and, as dream!Tony continued his--uhh--examination, a thick sound, an emphatic grunt, came straight from Loki’s diaphragm ...

***

_Oooh, sound effects. “You’re--you’re really good at this,” he praised the top of Loki’s head. “You could win a fucking Oscar for art direc--”_

_“Shh.”_

***

Yeah, okay.

So this is what Tony got for asking Loki about his own deepest, darkest, dirtiest fantasies. No words from the Silvertongue--just very clear pictures. High-def. HDTV. His own private theater.

Porno. Medical-kink porno.

The doctor is-- _heh_ \--in.

Goddamn, this was a talent.

The other-Tony’s free hand lifted, and braced on Loki’s upturned knee. The angle was perfect--the audience vantage point was to the side, but just off-center enough that Tony could watch his own forearm twisting inside Loki’s hole, see the thick pulses of lube squelch out from the overstretched rim and dribble down Loki’s ass to pool on the table. Shit, he must have emptied an entire bottle of slick in there. The shimmering little puddle of goop beneath Loki’s cheeks was a mere indicator of how much care Tony had put into getting Loki ready.

Care, incidentally, not reflected in the other Tony’s voice.

“Gotta know how deep you can take it, Loki.” It was a taunt, and impaled-Loki just groaned in response and arched into an even more uncomfortable-looking position. “You’re doing so well. Probably for the best, since this is just the beginning. Gotta make sure you’re nice and ready for your, uh, procedure.” Dream!Tony just sounded like Tony, mostly, which was a little unsettling.

Recognized his own teasing tone when the other asked, “Think I can go deeper?”

Loki’s response broke on a wordless sound.

***

_Tony squeezed his arms tighter around his own Loki who, although facing away, was just as obviously captivated by the scene. He could feel Loki’s chest rise as his breaths came faster, caught at Tony’s goad, and then started again._

_“So, this is it, huh? A little playing doctor, a little fist-up-the-rear. I knew you had an ass fetish, but--”_

_“Wait, Stark. Just wait.”_

***

And that--

Oh. They weren’t alone. That Tony--the one whose, you know, arm was occupied--turned his head at a sound and gave a small nod to--

Bruce?

Bruce in a mustard-yellow shirt and charcoal-gray pants under his own lab coat, hair mussed and looking as quiet and sheepish _(harmless)_ as he had early on, before Tony had learned how to draw out his sense of humor, how to get him talking.

Bruce, who stood in an undefined corner of Loki’s fantasy space, making notes on a clipboard, and--

***

_Three people having a good time? Or ... one_ really big person _having a great time ..._

_Oh._

_“Um--hang on--” Tony tried to shift under Loki’s weight._

_And Loki wouldn’t budge--just pressed back harder. “You wanted to see, Stark.”_

_“Oh, but--”_

***

Captive Loki cried out as Tony’s arm punched in just a little deeper, as Tony leaned over and mock-whispered, “Main event is here, baby. Your opponent. Middleweight champion now, but he’ll be heavyweight class before you know it. Hope you’re ready for every pound.” Chuckled at his own pun, of course, and Bruce made a show of ignoring the whole thing as the clipboard disappeared from his grip.

At the table, Tony withdrew his arm, wrist, hand from Loki’s sopping hole, and Tony’s attention was split between the broken sound Loki made and the sight of ... Christ, it didn’t even close up, and--evil? Uh, yeah, _evil!_ Tony found a towel somewhere and wiped himself off vigorously as he turned back to give Bruce another ... nod.

He’s all yours, that gesture said. For Loki’s benefit, he spoke, “Ready to give him his physical, doc?”

“Oh ... Okay, Tone,” Bruce replied, with just a half-smile and a hesitant step closer.

And that--that--

Bruce wasn’t even angry. Nothing happened to Bruce to make him-- No, he just removed his glasses and set them on the desk corner, slipped off the lab coat, unbuttoned his shirt ... Started to unbutton his shirt with precise fingers, and then--

Fucking just _blew up._

***

_Pressed behind Loki, Tony’s body still jerked. Watching the Hulk explode out of Bruce was never not ... never not riveting, for fuck’s sake, like every time Tony’d put_ American Werewolf in London _on slow-mo just for that one scene. Seeing it in real life--sort of--but without the incipient terror of maybe, this time, being the Hulk’s target?_

_“Wow.”_

_“Indeed. It is impressive.”_

_The pronoun stung and had to be addressed. “_ He’s _impressive--all of him.”_

_“Oh, yes.”_

_And Loki had missed the fucking point. “That’s not what I-- Oh.” Loki_ hadn’t _missed the point. The, uh, point was kind of hard to miss. “Oh, yeah.” Tony swallowed, throat suddenly dry. “Impressive.”_

***

The Loki on the table was twisting in his restraints--some kind of silvery cord that matched the shade of the table surface and whose edges disappeared beyond the four corners. He’d slid back up the table, scooted away, trying to increase the distance between himself at the green giant that huffed and panted at the border of the illusion. Whose shoulders curled down just enough to fit him in the frame, the canvas of Loki’s imagination.

_Fuck._ Nobody knew better than his teammates how big the Other Guy was, but, if possible, Loki had painted him even bigger today. Or maybe that was the point. The Hulk was massive enough when he was fighting on your side. But it was an altogether different situation when you saw him stripped naked, erect, and framed by your bare, quivering knees.

Or maybe that was exactly how big the Hulk looked when he was kicking your fucking ass. After all, Loki would know.

_That_ Loki was pulling very hard at the restraints, sweat skittering up over his skin as he moved, as he made little grunts and moans and tried so hard to free himself. Begged Tony to let him go. Said, “I can’t, I cannot,” and, “Please,” and ... Oh. Tony--yeah, evil!Tony, no joke--had leaned against something on the opposite side of the table, facing the invisible audience, but his full attention was on the captive. He wasn’t smiling, exactly, but he was thoughtful as he carefully rolled down his sleeve, leaving it open just above his wrist.

“He just wants to examine you. Don’t make it hard for him, babe,” evil!Tony said, and clearly it was too much to hope for that the statement was aimed at the Hulk. “Or he’ll be sure to make it hard for you.” Tony looked over at the expanse taken up by the creature, although his words were directed at--yeah. The table. “Harder for you, anyway. Thought it looks like he’s, uh--”

Yeah, the Hulk was monstrous. Tony had seen it before--come on, they all got hard-ons at the worst possible times, and Hulk’s were more visible than most. But he’d politely not studied it. Until now, when there was very little he found more interesting than the fat, veined rod sticking out, olive-green, from between the Hulk’s legs. That cock was thick, jutting out from his body, and rapidly rising to its full potential.

Oh, God, it was gonna hurt. He had to remind himself that the real Loki was with him, not that--that--

Captive!Loki’s head had left the table as he looked between his own legs, and he made a little whimpering noise, called Tony’s name again and begged a little more. At the sounds, the Hulk fucking smiled. The “Hulk smash” grin that meant he was about to enjoy himself.

***

_“Okay, you win.”_

_“I didn’t realize this was a competition.”_

_“I didn’t either, but you win.” He scratched blunt fingernails lightly over Loki’s belly. “Are you really about to let me watch--”_

_“Do you want to watch? Or do you want me to stop?”_

***

And how to answer that question? Well, you don’t--he didn’t, as he watched the Hulk stalk to the edge of the table, steps vibrating across the floor, and great gusts of air pushed out from his mouth and nose as he surveyed the offering laid before him. As he tilted his head and watched the pretty little god who tried to pull his legs together and just couldn’t.

***

_As for--_ nrrgghh, oh, God _\--as for his own role in this, Tony couldn’t ... Tony was trying really hard not to be bothered, because, hell ... Yeah, he’d dreamed of Loki decked out in full armor and bearing down on him (in Stuttgart, but,_ shh, _he sure hadn’t told anyone. Definitely hadn't told Loki)._

_And, you know, God knows they had played with imaginary-Steve enough those first few strange weeks in Loki’s apartment. He'd be a total hypocrite if he suddenly started criticizing Loki's casting choices._

_But ... “Oh, Jesus.” Bruce. Bruce, who wouldn’t hurt a damned thing if he could avoid it. Who avoided Loki like the plague whenever he could, and, boy, was it mutual. He couldn’t believe Loki had brought him into this. Brought in the Other Guy._

_And, if there were any doubt that they were the same person ... Christ, he forgot how much the Hulk looked like Bruce. Especially when he was thinking._

_Tony made an involuntary noise when, with sudden movements, the Hulk ... stopped thinking._

***

Show--

Showtime.

Those big hands landed on both of Loki’s inner thighs, pushing them wide again, and then slid over to his hips, where his hold would obviously leave bruises. He pulled Loki roughly back down to the end of the table, and Loki--Loki cried out. The table was smooth, but the friction and the Hulk’s firm hold probably hurt, and yet again the two hands slid to his inner thighs and pushed them apart from where they were still struggling to press shut.

It was-- _fuck_ \--it was a good design, since the table had Loki at just the perfect height to-- Just the perfect level for the Hulk to be able to stand and--

The Hulk didn’t fully stand. He lifted one knee and rested it on the table just beneath one of Loki’s, and he lifted Loki’s ass with those two roaming, sure hands, and then Loki’s thighs were spread around the relatively narrow hips, and even though he was trying to squirm away, even though he was whispering Tony’s name in increasingly desperate entreaties ...

“Hang on--let me lube up your speculum, doc.”

Evil!Tony stepped in, chuckling. And, true to form, ignored Loki’s pleas entirely in favor of slicking up that enormous organ, making it gleam and drip. He wiped a hand on that same filthy towel, briefly touched Loki’s hair--Loki was facing away from them, and his expression was left to the imagination.

***

_“I’m, uh--” Every word of Tony’s own confessed fantasies came back to haunt him._

_Though his nebulous images of Steve and Loki were like Charlotte's Fucking Web compared to--yeah._

_“Quid pro quo” really wasn’t a phrase Loki understood._

_He looked down at the man in his arms and snorted, even shook his head a little, when Loki’s body language read “watching a fun movie” and not “seeing himself systematically raped by the Hulk and his own--” Well, whatever he considered Tony didn’t matter, but Loki might as well have had a bowl of popcorn in his lap. He was even twitching his feet back and forth absently._

_Damn._

***

And with that, using one free hand to guide himself, the Hulk lined that ... that _hentai horror_ up with Loki’s vulnerable ass, and--

***

_Tony squeezed his eyes shut and then peeked one back open. “Oh, Jesus. Jesus.” He got a for-real chuckle in response, and a comforting pat on his shin._

***

The Hulk _mounted_ Loki--it was the only way to describe it. Mounted, like watching a fucking elephant rear up and slide home, when your lower half just puckered up against the concept, and your brain went, “Nope,” packed a bag, and left town. Tony watched that massive rod breach and then sink, inch by excruciating inch, into Loki’s hole, as the god whimpered and moaned and finally shouted two times, or three, as he pulled on the cords that bound his wrists to the table. His legs were shaking around the Hulk’s hips, twitching in that unrelenting grasp, and--oh, God, the shaft was still sinking in ... _all the way_ in ...

Tony had never seen a hole stretched that wide, just to the outside limit of what it could take, angry red flesh giving way to cool, unforgiving green. Eventually, Loki’s legs sagged and just quivered every now again, his body limp and loose on the table’s surface, framed underneath the Hulk’s shoulders and pecs, face turned away from that hot, close breath.

The Hulk was still fucking smiling, that wicked smile, just radiating pleasure as he finally bottomed out, rested for a moment, and then began the long, equally shocking withdrawal. Inch by inch by--

And when he looked like that, when the Hulk looked like he was fucking concentrating? Yeah. He looked ... He looked just like--

***

_“What did you say, Stark?”_

_“I didn’t-- I didn’t say anything.” Tony took a breath. “I’m just ... I think I’m confused. Really confused.”_

_Loki wriggled back into his arms, against his groin, and ... yeah. “Not altogether confused, are you?”_

_Tony debated shifting his own hard-on away from Loki’s seeking bottom, because, Christ, the last thing he needed was to get off watching the Hulk fucking_ rape _Loki._

_Must have said something out loud, because, “Is it rape, Stark? It’s just a fantasy. My quite-willing fantasy.”_

_“You don’t exactly look like you’re enjoying it.” He meant the other-Loki, of course, but then right-here-right-now-Loki lifted Tony’s hand and guided it between his legs, to where his own cock poked cheerfully out. “Yeah, okay, point taken, but--”_

_“You’ve never--” Loki sighed as Tony touched him lightly, to reassure at least one of them. “You’ve never imagined it, once?” He inclined his head toward the scene, where the Hulk’s penetrations were gaining speed and force, where Loki was being cored like a goddamned golden apple and was now only weakly calling Tony’s name, reaching for Tony with trapped hands ..._

_Tony snapped his attention back to whatever his Loki was saying. “Never?” Loki made another loose gesture at the--uh--tableau. Continued, “Banner positioning you however he wants you, breaching you with that magnificent phallus--look at it, Tony, just look at it--and you left with no choice but to take it?”_

_Okay, so, that was unfair--they weren’t talking about_ Tony’s _fantasies after all._

_At least Bruce wasn’t an “it” to Loki right now, but--_

_“This would kill--Jesus,” Tony breathed as a powerful thrust lifted Loki’s back right off the table, as evil!Tony (who cheated by having the exact same facial hair as regular!Tony, which broke every rule of scifi_ ever _) apparently coached the Hulk through his performance with a low voice. As evil!Tony stroked Loki’s damp hair and trembling shoulder while he encouraged the Hulk in his brutality._

_“This would-- It would kill Bruce, so, uh, no. I mean, yeah, okay, the occasional thought, at night, when I can’t ... But ... No.” Tony shook his head and closed his eyes, could still hear the Hulk’s progress by the singsong cries forced from Loki’s throat, Loki panting little no, no, no’s with his head turned in the other-Tony’s direction._

_***_

“No.”

***

When Tony opened his eyes again, the bedroom was .... the bedroom, again. “What--”

Loki twisted in his arms and crawled up Tony’s body, settling more comfortably against his chest. His expression was neutral--not unkind. “You weren’t enjoying it,” he offered simply. He squirmed again perfectly to emphasize the swell of Tony’s cock between their bellies. “Well ... You don’t want to enjoy it.” He gave an aborted little shrug, flat against Tony’s torso, and sighed. “We can’t help what we dream about. If you are troubled by the imagery, why subject yourself to it?”

“But you--I thought you wanted to show me.”

“I did.” He heard Loki’s smirk. “And _I did.”_

Tony snorted, lifted a hand to brush a loose lock of hair off Loki’s cheekbone. Said affectionately: “Asshole.”

One of those snotty eyebrows went up. “Mm. I doubt I would have much of one left after--”

“Stop. Just ... oh, stop.” Looked up at Loki’s face, which was mostly--as usual--showing how pleased he was with himself, but also maybe a little concerned. “Look,” he started. “I have, like, _zero_ moral high ground here. It was just a lot to take in.” He pointedly ignored Loki’s snort, and yeah, he got it. Plowed on: “You can-- You can get off on whatever you want. I don’t want to tell you that you shouldn’t--”

“I know. But it’s possible--just possible--that some details are better kept to ourselves?”

Tony used the strength in both arms to start tugging Loki up exactly where he wanted him. Didn’t want to discourage Loki from sharing exactly what perversities were running through his mind at any given moment, since many of those perversities were-- _yeah_ \--pretty fucking awesome.

“No, babe--tell me.” Just--

Didn’t need to _see_ Bruce manipulated into a monster.

And maybe didn’t need to see _himself,_ complicit, in the scene.

Maybe just didn’t need the _actual floor show._

“Just ... leave some of it to my imagination, you know? My very active, but mercifully amoral, imagination?”

Got a hum and a kiss in response.

***

It might have been--oh, a _little bit awkward_ the next time he ran into Bruce in one of the common rooms.

“What’s up, Tone?” Bruce asked over coffee. Tony turned, took one look at that-- _shit_ \--thoughtful expression, and his body threw out about four conflicting reactions.

“Uh,” Tony said, and barely caught the coffee mug as it slid from between his thumb and forefinger.

Bruce watched, sort-of amused, but then his brow pinched a bit when he saw something unexpected in Tony’s face. “Everything okay?”

“Everything’s ... everything’s fine, Bruce,” Tony said, patting the man on the shoulder as he passed by, mug now clenched knuckle-white in his hand. “And even if it weren’t ... Trust me ... You don’t need to know.”

“... okay?” Bruce said to Tony’s retreating back.

“Oh, God, yeah--really okay, Bruce.”

And, as he scuttled away, he called back over his shoulder, “You are so _not_ that kind of doctor.”

**Author's Note:**

> Was planning on doing a palate-cleanser after [Last Words](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1222885). This isn't, uhhh, a palate-cleanser, obviously, but it elbowed its way in while the PC is still half-cooked. Hopefully that is still to come! Thank you for reading!
> 
> [Find me on tumblr](http://hannahrhen.tumblr.com) nerding out on other people's fics and dodging Winter Soldier spoilers like Neo in The Matrix.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Negotiation](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1369384) by [i_am_a_mole_and_i_live_in_a_hole](https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_am_a_mole_and_i_live_in_a_hole/pseuds/i_am_a_mole_and_i_live_in_a_hole)




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